


coup de foudre: gay af

by Ride4812



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 2
Kudos: 87





	coup de foudre: gay af

Ian was slipping his suit jacket on when Mickey walked into the bedroom. Wordlessly, he tossed a thick magazine toward the center of the black cross that stretched across their silk and velvet baroque comforter. 

“What’s that?” Ian asked, leaning over to get a better view. “Holy shit.”

“Cyrus came to my shoot this afternoon to give me a copy. I guess it came out this morning,” Mickey said, completely nonchalant about the fact that Ian was holding a copy of Vogue—a copy of Vogue that had Mickey on the front cover. 

“Mick,” Ian breathed, “you’re on the cover of Vogue.” 

Ian knew it was happening—he remembered when Mickey got the call that he would be shooting for the iconic magazine—but it was a different level of awe when the evidence of Mickey’s success was so tangible in his hands. 

“Holding a girl’s tits,” Mickey remarked, crinkling his nose as he peered at the cover. “Her nipple was trying to get through my fingers. Angry fucking nipples...”  
Ian laughed as he continued to admire the photo. The composition was inspired and the greyscale tones gave it a timeless vibe. And Mickey was beautiful. He was stating down the lens like he was going to fight it, one eyebrow cocked. He looked equal parts pissed off and skeptical as his tattooed hands held Sadie Hasmet’s breasts. She was his female counterpart—a phenomenon at the top of her game. Though the angles of her face were symmetrically perfect and her shoulder length silky black bob was striking, Mickey stole the show. Ian might have been biased, but he figured anyone with taste would agree. Mickey told a story with the slightest facial movement. It was incredible. He was incredible. 

“You look amazing,” Ian complimented, glancing from his real-life husband to the one that was on the glossy cover. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Ay, quit it, Gallagher,” Mickey tsked, grabbing the magazine so he could discard it onto the floor. 

“I want to see the spread,” Ian chided, retrieving the magazine and lying on his belly on the bed so he could check out the rest of the pictures. “You’re in Vogue.”

“I know, baby.”

It was surprising to Ian that Mickey wasn’t losing his shit over the accomplishment the way that Ian was. Mickey only cared that the checks cleared. And that they were fat. 

Ian flipped through the pages until he found Mickey, suddenly well aware why his husband had thrown the magazine on the floor instead of urging Ian to leaf through it. 

“Wow,” Ian uttered, feeling his cheeks burn as he stared at the series of photos. They were intimate. From a very tongue heavy kiss to ab licking, it was all way more risqué than Ian had expected. “These are...sexy.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s what they say. Does it bother you?”

“No,” Ian lied. “It’s art. Sometimes art makes people uncomfortable.”

“Well, I don’t think this is supposed to make people feel uncomfortable. I think it makes you feel uncomfortable because I’m your husband...”

“And you’re gay,” Ian added. “It’s weird to see you with a woman like this.”

“Would it have been less weird if it was a dude?”

Ian shuddered at the thought. He got that it was work, but he didn’t even want to imagine having to see Mickey’s mouth on another guy. He had to get it together. His husband was a model. He got paid to sell luxury items and a fantasy. 

“Speechless?” Mickey wondered, sitting on the edge of the bed so he could grasp the back of Ian’s thigh.

“No. I’m just appreciating the work,” Ian promised. It was gorgeous, a true masterpiece.

Though the subject matter made Ian uncomfortable, he couldn’t deny that it was well done.

“Alright.” Mickey patted Ian’s ass. “We better get going. Your shit’s starting in, like, an hour, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ian hummed, fearful that if he opened his mouth the questions he didn’t want to ask would start pouring out. He got up from the bed to finish his primping. 

He could feel Mickey’s eyes on him as he walked into the closet to get a tie. Deciding it was a Burberry night, he began to work on his knot.

“You’re quiet,” Mickey noted.

“I’m always quiet,” Ian reminded. 

“Not this quiet. Did the pictures bother you? Cause if they did, we gotta talk about it...”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s your job, Mick. I’m not gonna give you a hard time about your job. Especially when you’re in Vogue.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings about it. Even if they’re dumb,” Mickey added playfully. 

Ian laughed despite himself. “I mean, I don’t want to see you makeout with anyone. It’s not my favorite thing to look at.”

“I’d lose my shit if I saw you like that,” Mickey admitted, gesturing toward the magazine. “It wouldn’t matter if you were working or not. I’d want to break someone’s face.”

The confession had Ian feeling freer to share his thoughts. “I kinda want to break her face.”

“I get it.”

“You look like you were into it,” Ian added, ashamed that he was even giving Mickey an ounce of an issue considering how a big a deal Vogue was. 

“I’m supposed to look like I’m into it.”

“But were you?” Ian blurted. 

Mickey clicked his tongue. “I’m fucking gay and in love with your dumbass.”

“So that’s a no then?”

“A big no.”

Ian exhaled a sigh of relief. He knew it was a stupid thing to worry about, but it was his natural reaction. “Good.” 

Focusing on getting ready for his show, Ian tried to drop the subject and move on. He believed everything that Mickey said, but the confidence in his husband didn’t eradicate his interest in the question that wanted to tumble from his tongue. He was borrowing trouble. He knew in his heart that there was no reason for him to be stuck on the photographs, but his mind was playing tricks on him.

They were almost to the first floor of their Cobble Hill brownstone when Ian decided that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Have you ever slept with a woman?”  
Mickey nudged his knuckle against his nostril, a tell that he was uncomfortable. “A few.”

“A few? Is a few a code for a lot?”

“Yeah. I used to bag chicks to prove that I wasn’t gay.”

“Prove it to who?”

“My friends, family,” Mickey paused. “Myself, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“You haven’t?” Mickey wondered.

“Been with a woman?”

“Yeah.”

Ian cringed at the thought. “No.”

He watched as Mickey grabbed their house key from the entry table. 

“Gold star, huh?” he remarked as he opened the door and then promptly locket it as soon as they got onto the stoop.  
It was an unseasonably cool early-September night, which made Ian worry about the temperatures they could expect when winter hit. 

“Yeah.” Ian didn’t know why he’d thought Mickey was, too, but he had. “Did you like it?” 

“Like what?”

“Having sex with women,” Ian clarified.

Mickey regarded him with confused cerulean eyes. “I think no matter what I say I’m about to get myself into some fucking trouble.”

“Oh c’mon. You’re not getting in trouble. I’m just curious.”

“Getting your dick wet never feels bad but that don’t mean that I’m into banging girls. It’s just something I did before I knew who I was, what I was into.”  
Ian nodded as they descended the stairs that led to the sidewalk. 

“Listen. I don’t wanna be with anyone but you, Gallagher,” Mickey stated. “You don’t gotta be worried about anything.” 

Ian wished he was strong enough not to need the reassurance, but he couldn’t deny that it helped ease his overanxious mind. Mickey’s fingers interlacing with his and a tender peck, helped put the worry to rest. After three years of marriage, Ian felt he should have been less threatened, but Mickey’s status as an international sex symbol could be hard to cope with sometimes. It would be easy for his husband to upgrade from him, find some model to have a passionate affair with. There was no doubt that there were enough of them that wanted Mickey. 

“Love you, baby,” Mickey promised, as he pulled him into another kiss.

“I love you, too. So proud of you.” He placed his hands on Mickey’s cheeks so he could look him in the eyes before deepening the kiss. He wanted Mickey to feel the pride that swelled in his chest for him. 

Their moment was interrupted by a familiar voice calling Mickey’s name.

“Hey Mick,” the paparazzo standing just beyond their propriety line hollered, his camera at attention, “care to comment on the cover?”

Mickey reluctantly dropped his arms from where they were resting on Ian’s shoulders and turned to face the gnat. “It’s still Mickey,” he corrected, his tone rife with aggravation, “and which cover? I’ve been on a lotta them?”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh. The constant presence of paparazzi in their life was annoying but watching Mickey roast them say after day was amusing. 

“Vogue. People are calling it a departure from art, saying it’s lewd and pornographic. What d’you say to that?” the paparazzo prodded, his camera trailed on Mickey.  
They always wanted to get a reaction and said absurd things so they would and against his better judgment, sometimes Ian gave them one. “How could anyone say that?” Ian cried, aware of the protective hand now resting on his chest, a nonverbal indication that he should stop. “It’s a revelation.”

“Are they your photographs?” the paparazzo asked as if he’d forged himself a new avenue to annoyance.

“No.”

“Why didn’t they have you shoot it?” the “reporter” pressed. 

“Because that’s not the way shit works,” Mickey stated, sighing at the sight of a swarm of camera-toting locusts hurrying toward their house. “We gotta walk,” he whispered to Ian, interlacing their fingers and giving Ian’s hand a tug.

“Your kisses with Sadie were convincing,” one of the new additions called, “Are you still gay?”

“That’s a dumb fucking question,” Mickey admonished, leading Ian through the crowd.

“We’ve got a long walk and we’re not stopping at red lights. You assholes gonna follow or are you gonna fuck off?”

“Can we get a couple of pictures of you guys?” A woman proposed. “Give is the shots to make our money and we’ll leave you alone.”

Sighing, Mickey said, “Fine.” He looped his arm around Ian’s waist as the flashbulbs created a lightning storm. 

Ian didn’t think he’d ever get used to being on the other side of the camera, but being next to Mickey was all the reassurance that he needed.

“And how about a few of you alone, Mick,” the original paparazzo suggested. 

“How about you fuck off?” Mickey sneered, waving the army away. “Gave you what you wanted. Now leave us alone.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” several of them exclaimed as they allowed Mickey and Ian to cross the street, unbothered. 

“So, are you still gay?” Ian teased, giving his husband’s hand a squeeze. 

Licking his lips and giving Ian a smirk, Mickey promised, “I’ll show you that I’m gay as fuck as soon as we’re done with your show.”  
Ian couldn’t wait.


End file.
